by Bobby Nash
Tonight, when he allowed himself to lower his guard and let fantasy encroach upon him in the darkness just before sleep took him, he would think long and hard about Catherine Jackson. Oh, the things he could do to her. In his mind’s eye he could see her writhing beneath him as each thrust brought her to the bounds of ecstasy and then beyond. As her moans became gargled screams muffled by the gag tied around her mouth, he pushed harder. In his fantasy, she would try to fight him, but with her wrists and ankles securely handcuffed to the bed, there was no way she was going to escape him.
Just thinking about it now was making him hard, but this was neither the time nor the place to engage in such distracting thoughts. There was always later for that. As thrilling as it was to sit in the midst of this particular nest of vipers, it would have been unwise to draw too much attention to himself before he was ready to announce himself to the world.
There was always the chance, slim though it might have been that someone might recognize him. It had been a long time since anyone on the federal payroll actually had, but the possibility existed so it was prudent to remain cautious, but could not pass up the opportunity for a first hand review of the adversary.
She did not disappoint.
Tonight, when he was alone and reviewing the video recording his mini recorder was making of the exchange happening just a few tables away he might allow his adversary's natural beauty distract him. He lightly tapped his bag, where the recorder was hidden, careful not to jar the image. He wanted as clear a recording as possible for playback.
The coincidence of his adversary making nice with a Secret Service Agent was an unexpected twist given the usual mistrust that usually prohibited such occurrences. The fact that she had chosen to make nice with this particular Secret Service Agent was simply a pleasant bonus. Perhaps it was fate smiling down on him and blessing this venture. Yes, that was how he interpreted it.
Already his opponent was surprising him.
Ordinarily, such an unexpected turn of events would have caused him great consternation, but The Controller loved the irony of the moment, especially considering some of the names on his list. Yes, quite a surprising turn of events.
He would need more information on Agent Samantha Patterson. She was the unknown in the equation. Although her name was familiar to him, that was the only thing The Controller knew about her except that she was on inactive status. Until now, she had not even been a blip on his radar screen.
But something had obviously changed in recent days.
Agent Patterson was a wild card. Not only was she once again active and working the investigation, but she was close to the ranking detective. He didn’t believe in coincidence. The Controller knew very little about Samantha Patterson, but initial impressions made him want to learn more. From his booth, he ran an internet search from his phone while they sat just a few feet away. Before his coffee had been refilled, he knew quite a bit about Secret Service Agent Samantha Patterson.
She could be trouble, he thought as he read the file, but quickly reconsidered the notion. Although unexpected, her presence potentially solved one of the few rough spots left in his plan. Patterson’s involvement went from being a potential hindrance to a welcome addition. If he played his cards right, Detective Jackson’s new friend might just be the ticket into the White House that The Controller had been searching to find.
Wouldn’t that be nice? The Controller thought as he checked his watch. He had a plane to catch and did not want to be late. Even though he could take care of the next name on his list without leaving Washington DC, he was looking forward to this trip. Some jobs required a more... personal touch.
He checked his watch again. So far everything was on schedule. There were no problems of any kind ahead of him at the moment. Although he was prepared for contingencies, it was always a pleasant surprise when things worked out to the letter, but then, planning was his specialty. Well, one of them, he thought as he shifted in his seat to accommodate his growing erection. Tonight, he decided, his fantasy would contain both Homicide Detective Catherine Jackson and Secret Service Agent Samantha Patterson at the same time.
The mere thought of it made The Controller most happy.
He tapped his watch face and smiled. There was no need to rush. He still had plenty of time to make his flight to Atlanta. I think it’s going to be a lovely day, The Controller thought as he shoveled a forkful of runny eggs into his mouth.
A lovely day indeed.
###
Aunt Al returned to top off their coffee one more time.
“That was delicious,” Jacks told her.
“As always,” Samantha added.
“I’m glad you liked it,” Al said, all smiles as she sat down the coffee pot and gave Agent Patterson a hug.
“Oh, this was dropped off for you, Detective,” Al said.
She handed over an envelope with her name written on it in pen.
“Where did this come from?”
“Some guy handed it to me at the counter and asked me to give it to you.”
“What guy?” Jacks asked, suddenly on alert.
Al strained to look around the diner. “I don’t see him. I believe he was on his way out. He was one of you guys. He looked like a fed, had on an FBI jacket. At least, I think it was FBI. I’ve seen a lot of white letters on dark blue jackets this morning.”
Jacks opened the envelope and pulled out the letter inside. It was printed out from a computer’s laser printer. It would be all but impossible to trace.
She started reading.
Dear Detective Jackson…
After she finished reading the letter, Jacks stood and looked around the room for anyone paying specific attention to her reaction to the letter she just read.
She saw nothing that stood out to her.
“We have to go,” Jacks told Agent Patterson.
“What’s wrong?”
“We have to go now!”
nineteen
Washington DC
Sunday
Sarah Smooth was amazed.
Gaining entrance to the Hester Building turned out to be far easier than she had suspected. From the outside, it looked like any other Washington DC building. Made of brick, mortar, steel, and glass, there was literally nothing about the place that screamed government office, which she assumed, was precisely the point.
Ted Brown had worked as an analyst in this building for the last nine years. He had told her this after one of their marathon lovemaking sessions shortly after their first date. She already knew where he worked, of course, but could not very well bring up the topic herself. No, her job was to maneuver the conversation in a manner where he brought it up without realizing she was manipulating him.
Since that night she had subtly worked in just the right amount of questions about his office so as not to raise any suspicions. She complained one evening to him that the pass card she had been given during her internship kept malfunctioning and would not let her through the right doors. When she asked if he ever experienced those types of problems, Ted consoled her by explaining that even his building suffered from the same technical glitches. That got the ball rolling. She told him what type of system was in use by the company where she interned. He then revealed, quite innocently enough under the circumstances, the brand of security door locks his firm used.
Of all the skills Sarah could claim mastery over, it was intelligence gathering that she excelled. She knew how to manipulate her target into divulging what seemed like unimportant information on the face of it, but with enough scraps she formed a perfect picture. Ted Brown was a smart man. He never revealed classified data, but even a man as smart as he could be maneuvered in the right direction with just a little nudging.
And nobody nudged quite like she did.
With intel such as this at her disposal, she had an inkling of what to expect in terms of penetrating security. Over the next few weeks, she gently nudged the conversation in a direction to get him to inadvertently drop see
mingly trivial information without going so far as to make him question her motives. And it worked.
While Ted was smart enough not to divulge important security details, Sarah was able to get other, seemingly less important tidbits out of him. Details that, on the surface, might not seem important, but helped her when combined with the other bits of data at her disposal. The intel she gathered painted a fairly accurate image of the Hester Building.
She had been planning her next move for some time. Her client had given her a fair amount of leeway on this job, but his patience was nearing a breaking point. He was demanded results.
In truth, Sarah had been ready two weeks ago, but held off. She had pulled a copy of the blueprints from the Department of Public Works and knew her way around the Hester building fairly well. She had even made a few dry runs to check time in and out, how long in the stairwells, etc. Certainly, she had access to Ted’s key card plenty of times since then. There was no reason to delay the job.
Yet she had waited and she wasn’t sure why.
That was a lie, of course. She knew exactly why she had stayed her hand.
As much as she hated to admit it, she found herself liking Ted Brown. He was sweet and kind. All the things Sarah looked for in a man. Certainly, he was far better than the losers she usually hooked up with. Ted was funny too, in a quirky sort of way. Okay, so he was a bit of a geek, but somehow, surprisingly, he even made that seem cool. Maybe she had just been in this game a little too long. Maybe she had gone soft.
Somehow Ted had gotten to her.
That bothered her more than she cared to admit. She had been doing this job for a lot longer than most. In a profession where the good died young, she had made a name for herself. Until now she had never let a mark get under her skin like this.
What was it about Ted Brown that rattled her so? Why was this time different?
For the first time in her career she considered forfeiting on a job. A suicidal move in her profession, but the thought remained. No one truly left this line of work, as she was well aware. She had witnessed firsthand what happened to those who thought they could walk away on their own timetable.
It was not pretty.
But none of that it mattered once she walked through that door. As soon as she set foot inside the Hester Building her fate was sealed. There was no turning back. She knew Ted would never want to see her again. Not that she would blame him.
Some betrayals were unforgivable.
This was one of them.
The lobby was small. The entryway was polished marble but only for roughly fourteen feet where it transitioned from a polished sheen to that of an ugly dark gray/blue carpet that reminded of her high school. A large stain covered a hefty portion of the carpet off to the left.
Must have been a grande-sized coffee to leave that large a stain, she guessed.
A potted tree sat just away from the stain, probably to draw attention from it. Even though a rug would have seemed a more logical choice to Sarah.
A security desk sat in the center of the lobby with hallways off to both sides that led to the stairs and elevators. One lone security guard sat at the desk, his feet propped up, reading a book. He looked comfortable enough, considering how boring his job must have been on a day when the building was practically deserted.
Obviously, he had not been expecting anyone to come in on a Sunday morning.
“Hi there,” Sarah said cheerfully as she crossed the lobby.
“Oh, good morning,” the guard replied, visibly chagrined because he had not heard her enter. He quickly dropped his feet to the floor and closed the book, which she noticed was a scriptwriter’s guide to selling screenplays. Obviously, the guard was a wannabe movie writer.
Sarah kept walking, smiling at the guard as she passed.
The guard smiled sheepishly, embarrassed at being caught lounging on the job.
“It’ll be our little secret,” Sarah said with a wink as she walked past, gesturing that she was turning a key to lock her lips. It was a move she had seen her little sister make numerous times growing up.
“I appreciate it,” the guard said with a sigh before putting his feet back up and resuming his reading.
Once out of sight, Sarah shifted the briefcase from one hand to the other. It was a little heavy with her equipment inside. The guard never gave her a second glance. Then again, why should he? She certainly looked as though she belonged there, which was the plan. Dressed in a nice, inexpensive gray skirt, white blouse and matching gray jacket. With her long hair pulled up and pinned behind her head Sarah looked like any other nine-to-fiver on the Federal payroll.
It has been said that the easiest way to get into a place you did not belong was to look and act as if you did. Sarah looked like she belonged in the building, but at the same time she remained unremarkable enough to not leave an impression with the guard so he might identify her later. It was a tough rope to walk, but Sarah was very skilled at her job.
The fact that she was in the office on a Sunday did not seem much of a surprise to the guard. Apparently, many dedicated employees came in on the weekend to play catch up on all the work they didn’t get around to during the week. In his eyes she was probably just another go-getter on her way up the corporate ladder.
According to the registry next to the elevators, there were twenty businesses located within the Hester Building. Most were law offices, but there were a few accountants, a marketing firm, an only apartment finder business, and her ultimate destination, Pearce Analysis.
But first a quick trip to the basement was in order.
The elevator dropped down two floors after the doors closed.
Pearce Analysis was a front company, of sorts. While privately owned, Pearce had only one customer, the United States Government. Of course, that information was not public knowledge. She doubted anyone outside of the intelligence community was aware of the work done in this building.
For many years the National Security Agency and the Central Intelligence Agency handled all analysis in house, but as the world became more and more dangerous, the work began to pile up. Ten years ago, a decision was made to farm out much of the non-essential work to an outside contractor so the various agencies could devote more of their resources to the more immediate concerns.
Finding someone to handle all that raw data and still retain utter secrecy had been difficult at first. Until Richard Pearce, then an operative of the NSA, floated the idea of retiring from active service and starting his own company to handle this task. This move allowed Pearce to operate off the radar while allowing the non-urgent grunt work to be farmed out to someone the security agencies knew they could trust.
A win-win scenario for all involved.
Over the years, Pearce pulled people he could trust from both the NSA and CIA to work for him. He also hired outsiders and started them out with low classified material until he was sure whether or not they could be trusted with sensitive materials.
Ted Brown had been one of the new hires that paid off.
Brown enjoyed analysis and research. He was good at it too, which was an added bonus for his employers. Ted’s only weakness was Sarah.
For Sarah, Ted was her way inside.
Ted had even been promoted from a bullpen cubicle to his own office with an actual door and a window. Not much of a view, but an office with a window was an office with a window. In the corporate world that still meant something.
The elevator jerked to a stop on the eighth floor and Sarah stepped out into a hallway far nicer that the general lobby. Here the carpet was more of a burnt orange, but it fit with the décor and complimented the wood stained walls. Several oil paintings dotted the hallway, along with fake potted trees to spruce the place up a bit. There were no drink stains soiling the floor here as there had been in the lobby.
Suddenly, she wondered if the coffee stain downstairs was intentional, creating an atmosphere of an average, run of the mill office building in need of general repair. Not that she
had time to ponder the question further, but if it were true it was a brilliant touch.
On the eighth floor everything sparkled.
Sarah stepped out of the elevator into a carpeted hallway that felt warm and inviting, which she found odd because those were two descriptions she never associated with government agencies, no matter what country.
She saw no visible signs of security on the floor, which was a bit of a surprise. She had expected at least one roaming guard to be on duty. However, just because she saw no guard was in no way a guarantee that there wasn't one on the premises.
She moved quickly.
“This is way too easy,” she whispered as she approached the office door. She was certain there was a camera recording the floor, but she had taken care of that during her brief visit to the sub-basement where she had placed a scrambled encoder to loop a segment and replay it over and over so she could move around unnoticed. It was an old school trick, like something out of an old spy movie, but it was damned effective.
If it ain't broke...
The outer door had a polished gold-plated plaque that read Pearce Analysis. Sarah grabbed the door handle, pushed down easily--
--and felt it catch.
Locked!
This was actually good news. A locked door meant it was highly unlikely there would be anyone inside. The last thing she needed was to run across some eager beaver working overtime. That kind of complication would have really put a crimp in her plan. Glancing around to make sure she was still alone in the corridor, Sarah pulled two pins from her hair, letting it fall playfully around her shoulders. Quickly, she worked the door lock like an expert.
She was inside the outer office in a matter of seconds.
Clearly, this was not the first lock she had ever picked.
However, it would be her last.
twenty
Washington DC
Sunday
